


3am SilverFlint PWP & Drabbles ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

by pennydreddful



Category: Black Sails
Genre: I didn't beta this!, M/M, idiots who can't just say the fucking thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-08 05:57:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14098749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennydreddful/pseuds/pennydreddful
Summary: they gave me bisexual representation and made the whole cast hot, so I've been awake writing in the middle of the night; what do you want from me? this will be an ongoing set of interactions, some full scenes, some headcanons-written-as-vignettes.somewhat a collection of possible SilverFlint first times, all exist in roughly the same universe.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set just after 4.03, but everything in series canon will eventually be fair game

Silver jumped, the action knocking his drink and quill out of his hands, scuttling over the map. He had been deep in thought, and the heavy noise of his thatched hut's doorway being flung open revealed the last person he wanted to deal with at this moment. 

Righting his glass, brushing the remnants off and into the dirt floor, he turned and leaned against his desk. As Flint stepped closer to the lamplight, he noticed the captain's short-shorn hair was growing out, the beginnings of locks tufting together awkwardly. He’d been bereft when he’d awoken to find no trace of the roughly queued hair on the man handing him water from a very nearby perch.

Flint hadn’t seen him since he’d pulled himself out of the sea, and they stood there considering each other with unabashedly wandering gazes for a moment. 

“You’re-“

“I’m-“

Flint looked down and chuckled, flicking his eyes back up while he gestured for his quartermaster to go ahead. 

“You look well,” he offered, gesturing to pour the other man a drink. 

Flint accepted and crossed the room, saying, “You look alive.”

Silver gave a soft grunt of a laugh and pressed the cup into Flint’s hands, tapping the edge with his own and draining it with haste. Flint was lingering, unnerving for a man of his direct composure. If there was something crucial forthcoming, they’d already be deep in a strategic argument, but Flint seemed content to sit in silence. It was starting to feel like they only time they had—that was before, Silver reminded himself. He’d been trying to contextualize needy, fast head against the captain’s bookshelf for months. All it usually led to was John recalling the feel of his hands in Flint’s hair, firm pulling and a far rougher reciprocation. It was impossible not to think of it, now, shoulder to shoulder with Silver far ahead on the rum. 

Because of this, he felt emboldened to stare, take all of him in. Flint’s eyes were heavily lined, deep purple beneath the sharp green—sleepless. He let himself be seen doing it, studying Flint’s sharp profile in the low light as he poured himself another draw. 

There’d been no daylight between them for months, now, but so much more space than Flint could bear. He didn’t know how—or was genuinely incapable—of asking for what he wanted. He never wished to take lest it not be given to him, but to his shadow as captain. Unfortunately for him, Silver being close weakened him, made him want to beg to be closer. So, here he was, hoping Silver perceived this for the act of supplication it was. Three fast drinks and counting. 

“You know, that’s going to hit you all at once,” Silver said with a gentle smile. He was very familiar with the other man’s stress-drinking and hoped he was right about its cause now. 

Flint exhaled. “I certainly fucking hope so.”

Silver leapt. He pulled Flint to him by the lapels of his coat, tasting the warmth of rum on his lips and pushing his fingertips through Flint’s short hair impatiently, sending sparks through the places their skin met. He felt Flint chuckle against his mouth at the same time he realized Flint had him pinned against the table, thigh slotting in between his. Silver furrowed his eyebrows defensively, not in the mood to be needled for whatever thing Flint had found amusing. 

“You went right for it,” he commented, closing his mouth around Silver’s freshly pierced right ear; shifting his thigh to better line up with Silver’s body.

“We’re of one mind, then,” Silver murmured, tilting his neck up to encourage continued worrying at the new wound. He hadn’t stopped stroking Flint’s hair and tightened one arm around his waist to bring their thighs in contact. They aligned and he was swept up in the sensation of Flint bearing down on him from above, both broad, warm hands guiding it with hands on each side of his face. He kissed reverently, a complete thought in each phrase, every considerate stroke of his tongue within John’s mouth telling him of the fear during days they’d been apart. 

Silver had left his boot at the bottom of the ocean so he didn’t have the leverage to clear the table and toss the captain under him. He fussed in frustration, pulling at Flint’s gun belt and unclasping it, getting his fingers around Flint’s shoulders to push off his coat. 

“What?” Flint asked, eyes blown out, hands obediently moving to set his weapons aside and drop his coat to the ground. He couldn’t stand if Silver reconsidered now, and his eyes wandered to the curtain obscuring Silver’s bed. He’d spent a week believing his only partner living was dead, and he’d quietly resolved to stop wasting so much time when he’d watched Silver return to his home just hours ago. Since then, he’d just been building courage.

Silver hesitated, pushing up on his hands to stand up and lean on his crutch. He moved around the side of the desk, searching the floor for the right words. He doesn’t want to waive this chance, but for the first time in his life he’s preoccupied with becoming a pity-fuck and he gives in. He can’t be an inevitable regret. He wanted to claim the final space of partner despite his predecessors, be the enduring one; or begin the work of suffocating whatever this was before it could grow.

“Were this all to disappear, this war, I mean, this course of action, these stakes,” he paused, halfway between the curtain and the desk, “would I be enough?”

Flint was beginning to return to himself, straightening his posture and closing distance. “John Silver,” he started, low, eyes taking in the new, guarded stance his quartermaster kept, “From the first day you began to complicate courses of action and ruin low or high stakes…” he paused, “For me, there’s no measure of you that could ever meet ‘enough.’ I could settle for ‘all.’” His breathing was heavy and obvious in just a shirt, and he waited an excruciating moment while Silver’s eyes widened. Then they darkened, and Silver accepted Flint’s next kiss eagerly, casting his crutch off to the side and leaning fully into Flint. 

Both were too raw, vulnerable, and motivated for John to protest being half-shuffled, half-carried. When they neared the end of the bed, Flint deftly turned and pulled Silver gently into his lap rather than pushing him down. The angle his neck reached in order to kiss John’s wonderfully soft mouth exposed the flush covering his chest, and Silver was pulling off his own coat, sliding off his boot and reaching for the next layer with shaking hands. Flint mirrored him, discarding his shirt in the pile behind him and releasing a breath at the way John’s hips slid across his. They hadn’t taken this kind of time when they’d first come together, so Flint never had a chance to appreciate how fucking skillful John was. Many women had gratefully enjoyed his experience, and he’d always entertained a good-spirited attempt to please men when the opportunity presented itself. This wasn’t anything like broom closet fumbling, though, and the sensation of Flint’s solid form beneath him, specifically the cock dragging against his through the fabric, had him utterly focused. 

He captured Flint’s wrists, pushing him backward and pinning him more easily than he’d anticipated. Flint’s eyes were blown so dark Silver almost missed the flare of pleasure reflected there, but Flint exposed his neck again and Silver took no time devouring it, dragging teeth and tongue between his jaw and ear. 

“Please,” Flint breathed out, flexing his fingers experimentally in John’s grip. Finding it to be quite secure, his eyes slid shut and he bucked up, aching to hold Silver in place while he did so. Flint’s hips only chased John’s, though, and he began to move farther down Flint’s body, keeping his wrists in place. The motion pushed his ass up in the air, letting Flint take in the beautiful stretch of shoulders, waist, and lower back atop him. He moans at the sight, and the soft scratch of Silver’s beard against his chest and his legs fall open.

Oh. Silver hesitates as he realizes the absolute power he holds, here, like this. 

“Please? Please, what, darling?” he lets the endearment tumble out as he slots their hips together again and Flint tries to twist free to get his hands on him.

“Tell me,” he prompts, sounding less in control and more like the pouty little shit Flint had managed to finally silence on his knees against his bookcase those months ago. Flint cracks a half-smile, gazing up at his captor in challenge.

Silver lets his grip loosen around Flint’s wrists. “I’ll stop if you don’t,” he informs him, starting to shift his hips off to the side. 

“Wait. Please,” Flint starts, rewarded by smooth fingers tightening against his wrists. 

“Please? What, please?” Silver prompts, patiently grazing his mouth along Flint’s jaw.

“Please. Please, fuck me.”

Silver drops his wrists immediately and Flint looks stricken, thought he answered satisfactorily. Silver pauses before dropping lower on Flint’s chest, now kissing across ribs and stomach to meet hips, fingers unbuttoning pants as he kneels between Flint’s legs. He heavily favors his right side, a thing Flint observes through lidded eyes because Silver’s beautiful blue eyes are on his right as his mouth takes in his cock. 

Flint makes a sound of pleasure and weaves his fingers into the loose bun holding back Silver’s hair in the heat. They stay this way, the room filled with Flint’s soft, almost shy moans and the sound of Silver’s mouth and hand moving in time along his length. As the moaning begins to quicken, Silver matches the tempo, tears springing up from his admirable attempt at taking him all in his mouth. Flint pushes him off suddenly, chest rapidly rising and falling. Silver leans back, trying to assess whether or not he did something wrong. Generally, Silver had been the type of man to leave his lady partners shaking and quivering at least once before taking her and feeling her shake and quiver from inside, again. Flint draws in a breath, saying, “Let me taste you.” 

“I’m not certain I can last,” Silver admitted, cock leaking across his stomach through his pants. “And I’d very much like to fuck you.” One of those beatific smiles so rarefied now chased this comment, Silver’s face all the composure and arrogance he wore when planning to succeed at some new task. 

“I’ve nowhere to be tonight,” he intoned heavily. Greedily. Flint kissed him slowly, probing with his tongue into John’s swollen mouth, stroking along his sides and shoulders, trailing fingers down his back and coming to rest on his hips.

Flint carefully moved him onto his back, set among the pillows. Silver went easily, unbuttoning his own pants as Flint sat back to finish kicking off his. Silver bit his lip watching—Flint’s thighs worked as he settled between Silver’s legs and started to stroke and kiss everywhere he could see. Silver’s fingers were patiently working to gain hold of Flint’s short hair, earning a glance up and a quiet sigh when he managed to tug on it. He wasn’t attempting to guide his mouth down so he screamed when Flint’s mouth enveloped him all at once, hot and wet and absolutely expert. He’d had this before—with varying levels of investment—but Flint took him in a way that felt like fighting. His throat was clearly working against them, but he wrapped a hand around what he couldn’t take and Silver was writhing under him, fucking up into his mouth. Flint loved it. He wrapped his arm around John’s left thigh, fanning his palm across his hip and keeping him in place. Silver marveled at how much strength was in his form, loved the way his leg fit over his shoulder just so. His pain wouldn’t evaporate in that moment, but it was set aside all the same, which was terribly inconvenient in this much ecstasy and with Flint’s throat and mouth relentlessly driving him closer. 

“Please! Please, I need to have you, please, please, James, please,” he stammered out. It struck hard, for Flint to have him at a loss for words except his own name. The way he breathed it echoed for Flint and he dropped to the bed beside Silver, bringing with him a small vial from his pants. 

Silver’s eyes widened, realizing Flint had prepared for this and was at once flattered and slightly nervous. Flint already has the cork out as Silver draws him back into a kiss.

“Were you planning this?” he asks, in the smooth, even voice Flint could listen to for hours.

“God, no,” he lies, “Hoping.”

“You’re the least superstitious sailor I’ve ever heard of,” he commented, kissing the corner of his mouth. 

“What, you’re worried my wishful thinking would somehow influence whether or not this happened? If I had the slightest inclination that this would pass into the realm of reality, I’d probably not have. I assumed it was a mistake, for you, before,” James admitted. 

“What? Was I that inexperienced?” Silver looked mock-offended. 

“Quite the opposite. You felt well-practiced, something that does not come readily between men at sea, more with women at port,” Flint said.

Silver showed a wide smile, thinking of all the attractive men he’d seduced into privacy for a few minutes at a time. “You assume it was all women?”

“It wasn’t?”

“Not always. But,” he paused, “Not…fully, ever. And never how I’d started to crave it, watching you.”

The confession was met with Flint again pressed as close as he could get, hooking a leg over John’s hips and beginning to tease himself open. 

His mouth fell open.“Talk. All of it,” Flint said. He said it like a command but his enraptured expression belied it. 

“I’ve never taken or been taken by a man. Every time you got too close, invaded my space, brushed past me, lost or held your temper, I craved it. Every time you frustrated me past words, I wanted to hold you against your desk and show you. Ever since we ended up against your bookcase, I wanted both, all. I wanted to make you look at me all the ways I imagined you would, sometimes in my bunk, sometimes in your cabin, almost constantly in your presence.” Silver rambled, his spit-slick hand working slowly on Flint’s cock. 

“Please,” Flint whispered, dropping his head to his shoulder, working himself open at the pace he thrust into John’s hand. 

James rolled onto his back, fingers still inside himself and knees falling wide. Silver wasted no time in crawling between them, kissing the insides of his thighs, his knees, his abdomen. He was every bit the eager, exhausting, frenetic creature James had first met and wanted sooner than he’d admit, and it made him smile softly. 

“I’d imagined it,” Silver continued, murmuring with swollen lips against Flint’s ear, the heat of their closeness developing into a sheen of sweat. Silver felt slow and heavy, some combination of the rum and of Flint’s complete trust causing a rush of pleasure. “I needed to know if you felt the same. I woke up on that beach and was sure I’d been given my answer.” 

Flint’s face was anguished, his hand no longer moving within him. He looked on the verge of tears, but Silver was quick to mesh their mouths together again. Flint’s anxious pace was slowly coaxed into place with Silver’s gentle probing. Propped up on one arm, he stroked Flint’s face and kissed him amidst half-lidded gazes, adoring, and patient. 

“Please,” he nudged John, who was tracing the outline of where Flint’s fingers disappeared in himself, finally adding one and slipping down Flint’s freckled waist to rest his head on one strong thigh. Flint writhed his hips down. He wouldn’t remember this the way he did with Thomas—all soft sighs and complete submission. Thomas was elegant and seductive, capable of taking control exactly how his uptight lieutenant loved. Silver was nothing like him, and he grazed Flint’s cock with his teeth while he mused. 

Silver was combative and assertive and Flint recently made peace with the aching erections he'd tend to in his cabin in the wake of Silver’s rages. More than once he had imagined giving absolute control to Silver, and that had been when he was absolutely fucked. They’d both tried to slit each other’s throats at various points but if Silver so much as crooked an eyebrow, he could have his captain crawling to him on the floor of his cabin. When he knew he would do it without question, he would do it before the whole crew if it pleased this blue flame of a man, he started to make peace with the idea of how fucked he was. 

He’d been afraid his attempts to push Silver too far were transparent. If the other man could be needled into taking him, into putting him in his place, he’d do everything he could to get there. The force of their need had already been strong enough to sacrifice several things on his bookshelf in the rocking of their bodies. Flint could only hope that Silver knew how much he was like /this/ still. The bright, ringing emotion of pure love he felt when they argued in low tones inches from one another came to mind, and he moved his free hand to Silver’s jaw, hoping to cup his face to taste more of him. 

Silver was faster and was between his knees before Flint could telegraph his intention. James had no time to shout at the sensation before John’s mouth wrapped around him and hollowed his cheeks hard, the sight made unbearable by John’s bright blue eyes and satisfied little smirk when he drew to the top of James’ cock. 

“Please, please, I’m ready, please,” Flint protested, grabbing at the sheets. 

John pulled off of him with a soft, broad stroke of his tongue, coming up to kiss him, one hand trying to grip in his short hair while the other guided his cock against Flint’s entrance. 

They’d both been on the edge so long that John’s head slipping in was a full minute endeavor of slow panting and pausing. Flint was relaxed in his arms, lazily searching for John’s mouth while he caught his breath. John had thrown his head back, avoiding another kiss so he could last. The sensation was extraordinary and the man he felt no daylight with engulfed him in darkness. He felt Flint’s hand stroking his jaw and looked down, taking him in as he was taken in. 

After he felt the tight coil of Flint’s core relax a bit, Silver started to pull out in slow, fluid strokes, resting against Flint’s chest for leverage. They went slow, mouths more often exploring each other than not. Flint was wonderfully vocal like this, and Silver was reveling in it, running his hands everywhere to elicit the sounds he had to possess. Silver became heedless of their volume in the haze of heat and humidity, dragging Flint’s wrists up underneath him as he began to move faster, rolling his hips in a way Flint couldn't hope to match.

Flint moaned out Silver’s given name, a sound Silver had been chasing since its reverent whisper before the bookcase incident had abruptly ended. His fingers dug into Silver’s shoulders, blunt fingernails leaving light red marks. Silver shivered and commanded, “More.”

Flint scratched and stroked down Silver’s back as he tried to ignore how close he was without even being touched. Stopping near Silver’s hips, he dug into his warm skin, pulling Silver in even faster than he had been moving. Silver rewarded him with a wet, uneven kiss and his tongue deep into Flint’s mouth, tasting and moaning shamelessly. Flint adjusted, guiding Silver to hit the perfect angle as he dragged his cock slowly in and out of Flint’s increasingly relaxed body. 

“Love,” Silver murmured into his pierced ear, “tell me how you want this. Is it good this way? Can I give you everything like this, right here with me?” He was rambling but the low, gravelly nature of his voice belied rum and arousal. Taking Flint’s cock back into a spit-slicked palm was a tight fit given how close Silver had to be to issue open-mouthed kisses and needy moans every few thrusts. 

Flint was taking it miraculously, though, knees far above his shoulders and moans contained with a press of his mouth into the pillow or John’s own. John took it as his best effort at a reply.

Flint had never thought he would get to feel this completion again, never thought he would want more than the man he had. Something like guilt prickled up his neck at the thought of Thomas. Yet he thought knew how Thomas would react to seeing this—he’d either join in enthusiastically or demand to hear every last detail while deep inside of James some other time. What Flint couldn’t imagine explaining was the delirious desire he’d felt ever since meeting Silver. What would be worse, should it ever pass his lips, is the way their words were all mere confirmation; they knew this choreography before they’d even marked the steps. He’d bared his throat for Silver, and it was more than gratitude or respect. Silver accepting his submission was heady and only made him want to offer up more to his whims. 

Silver grunted, low, and nudged Flint to shift on top of him. He scrambled to comply, sinking down onto him once he’d wrapped his warm palms around Silver’s truly lovely hipbones for stability. 

The way he gazed up at Flint was a dizzying level of attention to be caught in; Flint took the thumb that was wandering across his jaw into his mouth and sucked hard as he thrust down. Silver could empathize with how badly he needed to be taken, now, understanding dawning as the man taking him inside did the most haunting things and opened entirely new doors for him. Silver felt at his mercy, and he twined their fingers together, pulling his mouth close to kiss languorously while they fucked. 

“Each and every time you’ve raged, we’ve fought, every quiet night we shared in my cabin, working or planning or drinking together,” Flint quietly began, slowly pushing himself back and forth on Silver’s cock, their faces close enough on the pillow to share breath, “I never knew how to ask. I hoped, but I needed you and I hoped to push you there, to feel some of your wrath, to return it to you in kind, to let ourselves truly be of one voice, of one mind.” 

Flint’s voice caught each time Silver was fully thrust inside him, and he moaned without hiding it as Silver held his head in both hands and started his own quickening pace. They kissed seriously now, tongues carefully aligned and thoughtfully engaged, knocked off track with each successively more scattered thrust. Flint’s leaking cock was dragging across Silver’s stomach as they fucked, nearly enough friction to bring him off. Silver dropped one hand to Flint’s jaw, cradling it between five strong fingers, feeling where those dimples were underneath his beard. The other went helpfully to his cock, confidently pulling in time with his thrusts until Flint was repeating his name and coming, eyes blown wide in pleasure and awe. He came hard, clamping down on his quartermaster where they joined, shaking in his arms until he was helpless, riding Silver through a rush of orgasm that quickly followed Flint’s own. They rode out the feeling together, Silver reaching for anything he could reach to kiss, to soothe, to worship, just a bit. Flint collapsed forward while Silver softened inside of him, their heartbeats heated and palpable between their chests.

Silver wove his fingers into Flint’s hair and guided him to lie next to him. Flint hooked a leg around Silver’s waist as he went, fitting them together naturally. Flint knew Silver was going to feel like this in his arms—warm and smelling of the sun; of matches and powder, and he smirked to himself.

“What, then?” Silver laughed, blue eyes kind and lidded behind dark eyelashes. 

“I knew you’d feel this way,” Flint commented, having tangled their limbs as fully as was possible.

“What way is that?” Silver asked, smoothing his fingers continuously through Flint’s hair. If he didn’t seem to bask in the sensation Silver would’ve stopped. It seemed like nothing he did was unwanted, though, so he chased any hint of pleasure it appeared he could give to Flint. 

“Telepathic,” he pronounced, falling into another easy kiss. It felt unusually familiar for the first time after one hasty encounter against a shelf in a storm, a moment not replete with fluidity and coordination. 

“If I am, you are, love,” Silver replied. The fondness Flint saw in his face clawed at him. Flint knew long ago he loved Silver and knew possibly sooner that he could never admit it to himself or say it to anyone lest it wither in direct light. 

Flint’s mouth cocked in one of those half smiles Silver knew to fear. He looked ready to devour someone when he wore it. Here, though, he just looked blissed out, dimples impressed deeply, and Silver pressed their lips together. “You like that, do you not?” he asked, so close and entangled.

“Mmm?” Flint asked, determined to not make this easy. If he felt it too, he had to say it to make it real. 

“Being called that,” Silver said, kissing Flint’s neck over a bite mark he’d left a few minutes earlier.

“Called what, exactly?” Flint encouraged.

“You know what. Don’t be a pain in the ass,” Silver chided.

“That was you, love,” Flint returned, softly, becoming very used to kissing Silver every few sentences, truly enjoying the fit of their mouths together. Why ever disagree when unity spread warmth throughout them?

_We wasted so much time,_ Flint thought, wishing he had bared his throat and the rest of himself at the first sign of a fight. He’d follow Silver anywhere he led, and the idea that they could have shared this longer, that he may have had the firm body wrapped around him in his bed, in his body, so much sooner if they weren’t so stubborn, was infuriating. 

“Are you glad I crawled out of the sea?” he asked, playing interminably with Flint’s hair. It was so soft, the stunning red always wreathing him in fury. He appeared to react very well to guidance given that way, and John was enjoying the power of giving him absolute pleasure. He was off his guard, and Silver wasn’t an honest man but he’d admit the same. 

Flint replied with such a gentle kiss that John sighed a little, completely entangled as the sun was beginning to set and the room took on a chill. Silver pulled his blankets up around them, securing them together and savoring their combined body heat. They both drowsed with no plans for the night, stroking one another’s skin and taking their time to kiss slowly and thoroughly. Flint finally relaxed against Silver’s chest, curled into it with dark lashes resting on freckled cheeks. He fussed a little in the early stages of sleep as John stretched his lovely torso beneath him to extinguish a candle with one arm. Flint’s line of sight followed a delightful trail down that he decided to set out upon first thing in the morning before slipping into a heavy, sincerely restful sleep with one palm fanned over Silver’s abdomen. Silver stayed awake a long while, memorizing each inhale as it smoothed into relaxed exhalations. Just before slipping into unconsciousness himself, Silver murmured small affirmations into Flint’s short hair, lips near-silently working against his scalp with a million little thoughts. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Established SilverFlint.

Silver can lean his upper body on the deck railing generously at night, taking some pressure off of his leg in the boot. With only a couple of men above deck, he’s comfortable being more _comfortable_ , and the sea spray feels fantastic in the humid evening air.

Flint dares not approach him like this, not for fear of the crew noticing but for fear of interrupting a private moment of bliss. He tries to quietly retreat to his cabin to wait for Silver to come to bed, but Silver could sense him blind.

“James,” he breathes, inviting him closer with an outstretched hand. Addled, Flint takes it, standing hand-in-hand with the worst cook and best fuck he’s ever known, a small offering of illumination to this once-dark corner of himself.

They don’t spend long there, though, Silver turning and making his way back down to the cabin first.

When Flint’s arm collides with his lower back and Flint's broad shoulder fills the space under Silver's arm, the quartermaster wants to be offended but can only inhale deeply and give an appreciative sound for the assistance. In a pliable mood, Silver doesn’t reignite a murder plot when, safely inside the locked cabin, Flint sweeps up the rest of him, depositing him on the cot and starting to work them both free of their clothes.


	3. Come Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “My loss should have been complete. I should have no reason to continue. And then,” Flint finally braved extending his fingertips to meet John’s shoulder. “You emerged from the sea.”
> 
> “Crawled,” Silver corrected, trying to deflect.   
> \--
> 
> Flint kept his hair post-Charlestown AU; just indulge me oKAY

 

John leaned back in his bed at the whorehouse, finally comfortable for the night, detestable boot thrown off to one side and his clothes in a heap on the floor. Slamming the candle snuffer down on the only wick he’d bothered to light, he sunk back onto the bed, lying to his body with all his might that it could go silent; it could relax now. He hadn’t the faintest memory of the name of this town, only that the sounds of a raid persisted and the chaos had been compelling enough to get the captain agree to a night ashore for his men. Raiding was not without risk, and each time John watched him hop across the gap before any of his crew, he waited for him fail to return. Silver did not doubt he had fled back to the _Walrus_ now, sulking in solitude but at least at sea, a realm less tethered to reality than base land.

 

Silver’s leg throbbed and he writhed from side to side for a few minutes, the repetitive motion something he’d come to appreciate immensely the last few weeks. Consistent distraction was the key. Flint had his rage, his displaced agony setting aflame every coastal colony he could see. Silver supposed he couldn’t grieve actively if he was constantly near death himself. Which, were he honest, may explain a decent amount of his willingness to follow a violent, consumptive force of a man into ravenous descent.

 

Allowing himself to give his assent to that rage, tacit approval in how he rallied the men and bolstered his rage with their greed. Flint’s focus was singular in the way that making a new wound could draw one’s attention from an older one for a time. Thinking of a few choice ways he hadn’t been distracted since his…loss, Silver chose to focus on memories that warmed him instead of the recent absence of touch. Before, it had been so effortless to find someone to share his bed—a glance and an artful opening line and he generally was tripping out of his clothes in minutes. He’d be a liar if he said he hadn’t been actively avoiding intimacy because of his new status. And he was that; a liar. He was good enough to convince himself he didn’t need it, wasn’t craving it from one source or another.

 

Silver laid back and reached for his cock, wrapping a slicked hand around himself and sighing in the first measure of comfort he’d felt since they’d dropped anchor, since Vane’s men mutilated him. Knowing the damned ship was obscured in a cove and therefore not his problem for a night was a great pleasure—for him and the men he heard carousing downstairs. Every few minutes he’d prick up at the sound of glass shattering, the inevitable pause, and shouts and laughter would resume.

 

Silver laid his head back and tried to think of absolutely nothing, working his cock slowly. He started to fail at it, slipping to a memory of the night they’d taken the Man O’War, Flint’s hand behind his head on the broad desk as they took out their adrenalin on each other. With a pang of misery, he remembered crossing his ankles tightly behind Flint and being kissed breathless for it. They laughed when it was over, then, comfortable in sharing their excess excitement at accomplishing a near-death, idiotic, gratifying maneuver. It had taken seconds for Silver to dress and slip out to gulp in cool air above deck.

 

He’d almost managed something resembling pleasure when he heard the dull clunk of a table being overturned. The shattering of a glass sounded just outside his room and he heard boots scuffle to avoid it. He sat upright, narrowing his eyes at the door when he heard a knock. Silver took a luxuriant moment to shove the heels of his hands into his eyes and count to three.

 

“What is it?” he sounded gruff.

 

“May I come in?” Flint asked, voice plain through the door’s slats.

 

Silver rolled his eyes in agony. Of course. Why would he ever expect a moment to himself?

 

“Give me a moment,” he intoned, wrapping a blanket around his waist and snatching his crutch up to get to the door.

 

“No need,” Flint’s voice came, muffled, one hand snaking in between the split wood to easily click the lock open.

 

“Hey!” Silver protested, passionately irritated to be upright again _for no reason._

 

Flint swept into the room as confidently as ever, instantly evaluating whatever space he entered like a new engagement at sea.

 

Making it back over to the bed, Silver dropped his crutch and sat back, securing the blanket somewhat.

 

“Captain?” If a voice could roll its eyes, Silver’s constantly did so. He’d say words that, on paper, could be never called insubordinate. Maybe he liked the quirk of Flint’s mouth when his new quartermaster got petulant.

 

Flint turned to him with a casual sway. _Oh._ Silver considered him in the low light from his flung-open windows. _He’s been drinking._

 

Flint saw Silver register this and moved closer to him, looking uncertainly at the bed. Silver gestured for him to sit, moving back against the pillows. He leaned to the end table to snatch up his rum and try to catch up. This was either going to be a brilliant strategic revelation or some horrid emotional candor that Silver _truly_ didn’t have the energy to support.

 

“Did I wake you?” Flint asked, reaching for the rum. Silver gave it after a pointed swig from the bottle.

 

“Do you care?” Silver asked with a smile.

 

“Sometimes,” Flint remarked, huffing out a tired breath.

 

“Is now one of those times? Because to be frank, I’ve been sleeping next to about ninety unwashed men for weeks and had delightful plans to be unconscious after a bath.” Flint realized Silver’s hair had been tied up, but beads of water still caught at the nape of his neck. He smelled of soap and rum.

 

Flint didn’t know what he was asking for, what he wanted out of his plainly exhausted quartermaster. He’d thought this return to Nassau wouldn’t hurt so vividly, that the journey wouldn’t have a meaningless terminus, devoid of those he loved and fought for. When his boots had hit this shore off the longboats earlier in the evening, he’d swept away quickly, up the beach to personally assassinate the magistrate. Flint was several long strides away by the time John had disembarked and got caught up in a group of men familiar with the port heading to the whorehouse.

 

Several hours after Silver and the crew’s arrival, Flint sat slumped underneath a canopy inhaling some new world herb with an attractive, mutually chaste whore. Mid-inhale, he saw a light go off in the room John had retired to and tried to decide if there was a creature drawn to darkness as much as a moth to flame. He had removed his coat some time ago, and when he ascended the stairs, his shirt flowed open from the whore’s kind interference.

 

Silver looked at the opening of his shirt now, seeing constellations of freckles scattered across his chest and dragging his eyes back up to Flint’s.

 

“I can’t sleep,” Flint intoned. Silver didn’t suggest Flint find somewhere where he wouldn’t hear half the crew fucking at top volume at any moment. He hadn’t expected the _Walrus_ to stop being his refuge, slinking from raid to raid as he had been, so he remarked on the obvious.

 

“You think I’ll believe you were trying, then?” Silver asked.

 

They were several feet apart, but Silver watched Flint’s eyes move to his mouth, poorly coinciding with a loud pair (more than a pair?) of moans from next door. Flint glanced at the origin and back to John, not registering the small smirk John slipped in appreciation of good timing.

 

Flint shifted closer to Silver, his face completely open to him in a way they could rarely share before the men.

 

“Should I believe you were?” Flint’s expression recovered, despite the weakness of his parry.

 

Silver narrowed his eyes and took the rum back from Flint.

 

“Believe what you want,” he said tersely. “None of your concern.”

 

“That’s not…that’s not…true,” Flint replied, awkwardly fiddling with one of his sleeves. It was painfully endearing, and Silver tore his eyes from it.

 

They shared a long look, plainly trying to read each other and not certain of what they saw. Flint was thinking of the one time he had let his control slip and he’d spent a few thrusts softly kissing Silver while they fucked, consciously keeping his breath at even intervals. Silver thought about, unfortunately, the exact encounter he failed to avoid when he took himself in hand before.

 

“The only time I’ve been calm in the last week has been in your presence. It’s the only time she hasn’t come to me. I think she knows I search for her less when I’ve your counsel. Whatever she may have said to you, she liked you greatly,” Flint started, looking a bit dazed.

 

Silver snorted quietly. “Plenty of bodies out there to transfer your grief onto, even for someone ‘above whoring with his men,’” Silver gestured at his disheveled state.

 

“John,” Flint said quietly. Silver’s warm blue eyes flicked up, surprised to find Flint wasn’t readying himself to indignantly rage. Silver’s face was less etched with the grimace his foot had caused all day, and in Flint’s warmed state of being, he thought he saw it beginning to thaw with each draw of rum.

 

“I can’t lose another partner. Not you,” he began. “I’m unmoored in your absence, always scouting the horizon for you,” Flint scoffed at himself, looking up at the ceiling and leaning back on his hands.

 

Silver was on his knees and in Flint’s space with astounding speed.

 

“I already thought I had lost you, those days, after,” Flint admitted, gesturing to his leg.

 

Silver cupped Flint’s face in his hands, stroking fingers through Flint’s bright hair and pulling him up into a kiss. Flint was on the verge of tears and so weary he went easily, not moving for a moment before reigniting and slipping his hands up John’s bare sides. They opened to one another for a moment before Silver pulled back, resting his forehead against Flint’s.

 

“Take off your boots,” he said. Flint tried to toe them off with limited success, and John went back to leaning on the pillows while he watched Flint finally wrestle them off. He’s only mildly uncoordinated, but the vulnerability delights John.

 

“Come here,” Silver commanded, admiring Flint as he moved up the bed to rest amongst the pillows with Silver. They fell together smoothly, and Silver tugged at loose fabric, willing him out of his clothes.

 

“Off,” Silver said, frustrated by Flint’s breeches. Flint unlaced and slipped them off, going quiet and waiting for more instructions. Silver saw the tension in his face, vulnerable for articulating something he’d been mostly ignoring since John had wriggled into his bed and crept back out before morning months ago.

 

“You need me now,” Silver whispered, observing. “I’ve always been right here. Why now?”

 

Flint considered him for a beat, too cautious to reach out and touch him.

 

“My loss should have been complete. I should have no reason to continue. And then,” Flint finally braved extending his fingertips to meet John’s shoulder. “You emerged from the sea.”

 

“Crawled,” Silver corrected, trying to deflect.

 

Flint stared him down, refusing to back off.

 

Silver’s face softened, having watched Flint’s ability to lie to him wane and disappear entirely over months.He reached for Flint, drawing their bodies together across the sheets.

 

Flint let himself be handled, giving in to the sensation of Silver’s callused hands on his bare skin. It didn’t compare to Miranda’s love, stronger after the loss of Thomas. It wasn’t similar to that comfort and intimacy. Even the one time he’d felt Silver’s thighs flexing against his own hadn’t been comparable to any way Thomas had ever had him or been had by him. He couldn’t bear to get close to his calculating, brilliant quartermaster because the entirety of his shame, now, after losing McGraw to become Flint, was knowing he loved Silver.Silver had known and loved the sum of him, covered in other men’s blood. Where all others flinched away, Silver only rose up to meet him each time, a sliver of his expression opposing whatever admonishment Silver _had_ to utter. Everybody was smart enough to see it but not dumb enough to mention it: they were consuming, passionate, adversarial and companionate in each interaction, and Flint found an equal on entirely new terms. Together they were something that needn’t be said to be known, and it wracked Flint to think that for all the tragedy of the loves in his life, John was before him now, alive and wanting.

 

Flint pulled him into a kiss while unraveling the blanket around Silver’s waist. Silver went willingly to his back, Flint’s hand secure behind his hand as he rolled them together, not breaking the kiss. Silver set a slow, rum-drenched pace and pushed his hips up, surprised by how warm Flint’s skin felt against his entire form. Flint bore his hips down in reply, one palm digging into Silver’s left hip hard enough to bruise.

 

Silver hissed out between his teeth and Flint immediately eased, darkened eyes widening.

 

“No, no,” he reassured, “It’s so good. Please.”

 

Flint dipped his head to nip at Silver’s neck experimentally, hands wandering everywhere. Silver hummed in approval, and Flint continued impressing his fingers whenever he’d pause.

 

The first time, Silver had raced to every new sensation, begging for Flint inside of him far sooner than the other had expected. Even explaining why that was ill-advised was just met with agitated hand over Flint’s mouth and Silver’s on his cock. He’d thought him simply inexperienced, but now he had no idea why Silver writhed more when bitten, grasped, clawed. He slipped a hand lower, slick with spit. and Silver parted his legs expectantly. He bit down on Flint’s lower lip with some force when his finger pushed into Silver.

 

Flint gazed down at Silver while he worked, eyes close to lidded from drink and desire. Silver jumped when Flint’s free hand ran over his chest and stomach.

 

“Beautiful,” Flint sighed, loving the sight of Silver completely pliant beneath him, his tight torso shaking at the feel of being worked open. Silver felt his neck throb where Flint had sucked a mark into it and moaned a little, pressing his own thumb into it to apparent effect.

 

“Fuck,” Flint snarled, prompting a laugh out of Silver.

 

Rather than tease, he took up Flint’s unoccupied hand and pulled it to his mouth, sucking two fingers lazily, pausing to pant as Flint stilled, straining to reach a small vial of oil on the nightstand. Silver was closer, and batted it into his hand with an annoyed sigh. Flint was grinning to himself, uncorking it with a tight smirk.

 

“I didn’t wake you, then,” he leaned forward, murmuring it into Silver’s hair and earning a set of scratches across his shoulders for his trouble.

 

“Just fuck me, before I’m too drunk to stay awake,” Silver groused.

 

Flint sat back on his heels quickly, bringing John’s smaller frame with him to array him in his lap, poised above his cock. Silver’s mouth fell open as they joined, his fingertips digging painfully into Flint’s shoulders as his hips shivered. Flint tried to go slowly and just ended up with his wrists pinned and Silver grinding down with intention on top of him.

 

Flint’s head fell back on the bed for a while, letting himself be ridden before he became conscious of the pressure it must be putting on Silver’s leg. Flint slid a hand up Silver’s chest, pulling his chin downward into a kiss and slowing their pace. He expertly repositioned Silver on his back, pulling the crook of his knee up to rest on Flint’s shoulder. Flint was deliberate and careful, sure to avoid any pressure on the leg yet delicately pressing a kiss to the inside of John’s knee.

 

Silver watched him with a look of pure adoration that caught Flint off-guard. The first time they’d been together it was a competition, a matter of assertion between two mutually agreeable men who desperately needed to fuck their heightened emotions into merely heightened sensations. He pressed his tip against Silver slowly again, fingers holding his jaw firmly in place. Silver’s fingers wrapped around Flint’s hand and fluttered whenever he felt more pressure; whether inside or the vertices where they met. Flint was breathing deeply and fully, ready to give Silver absolutely anything he needed.

 

“Harder,” Silver said, grinding his hips up to meet Flint’s hips with each thrust.

 

“God, you’re still so annoying,” Flint complained into his open mouth, dipping his tongue inside as he snapped his hips faster, still fearful of hurting him.

 

Silver was wrecked underneath him, scratching down his arms, over that small waning crescent on his bicep.

 

“Please, please,” he was repeating, cut off by Flint’s mouth on his own again.

 

Flint slowed to reach between them enough to grasp Silver, achingly hard. Flint wished he could be everywhere at once, to have his mouth wrapped around him now, too.

 

He was startled when Silver’s palm met his face almost fast enough to be called a slap.

 

“Don’t fucking stop, James,” Silver breathed, “More.”

 

Flint’s pupils expanded instantly, grabbing for Silver and slipping his thumb into his mouth. Silver bit down immediately, earning a harsh thrust and low moan from Flint. He smirked around the digit, that elegant, charming half-blink of his holding Flint’s open-mouthed attention.

 

Flint was soothed when Silver sucked on it, a world of promise alongside unabashed care. Flint collapsed over him, taking John’s wrists in his palms as he went, maintaining a rough pace as Silver squirmed through it. The way his smile spread open as he received it well was so goddamn dear Flint just buried his head in the pillow next to John, breathing him in and continuing to dig his fingers into his wrists.

 

Silver rolled his head to the side, moving his mouth against Flint’s bowed forehead.

 

“Next time,” he shuddered, “Promise.”

 

Flint kissed him again, too caught on everything he felt, completely surrounded in this person he had spent so long pretending not to love. He knew they could have as many next times as they could steal, and he planned to do this _often_. Grasping Silver’s hips, he pushed them up against the bed frame. Silver’s chest was unstable in the effort of clinging to the metal frame while relaxing into Flint’s secure hold left him shivering. Flint fucked him in earnest, slamming into him and by extension, the bed against the wall.

 

Flint was direly close to his climax, and he bit into Silver’s shoulder to contain it.

 

Silver groaned, a sound Flint heard frequently in mid-argument frustration. The way it sounded now, Silver completely opened to him, brought his attention sharply back to making his quartermaster come as hard as possible.

 

“That’s it, then?” Flint asked, idle in tone as his hips slowed. “You need this?” he offered, biting into his neck again and hearing that encouraging sound. Silver canted his hips in response.

 

“Tell me,” Flint whispered, thumbing the bruise he’d just incurred.

 

“Fuck, just keep going,” Silver replied.

 

Flint stilled his hips entirely. His face was rapturous but Silver was aching all over.Flint quirked his left eyebrow, slipping his hand around John’s cock again.

 

Silver’s eyes rolled back as he finally uttered “I need it. I—“ he hesitated.

 

Flint slipped halfway in, mouthing along Silver’s jaw.

 

“I, fuck, I like you taking me. I like you fucking me. I’d thought you’d made a mistake, then, sated, ah, curiosity,” he finished dumbly, Flint fully inside of him again with teeth openly dragging across his Adam’s apple.

 

“Please,” he managed, rough and so appealing. Flint would rise to whatever whim Silver may have and feared the day Silver understood how besotted he was.

 

Flint developed a stuttered rhythm, thrusting into John and stroking him with a twist of his wrist. Silver was incredibly vocal, moans falling from him heedlessly. Flint reflexively tried to kiss him quiet, thinking of that time in his cabin and more immediately of the men so nearby at the moment.

 

“James!” he cried out, Flint growling and dragging his mouth back down against his as Silver came into his hand, jerking his hips and pulling Flint with him. Flint kept hold of him throughout their orgasms, Silver’s finishing first and fully wrapping his arms around Flint’s shoulders. Flint makes an incredible noise of pleasure and breaks, stilling deep inside of Silver and crying out softly. Silver turns to meet his mouth and he’s pliant, letting his whole mouth fall open for Silver to access easily. They kiss like this, languorous and panting, Flint’s hands supporting all of Silver’s weight as he gently pulls off of him.

 

Silver isn’t certain how Flint manages to arrange them and re-tangle their legs within seconds, but he sighs deeply and shifts his arm so he can reach fingers into Flint’s hair, pushing sparks of pleasure through his aftershocks. They lie there with the heat of their bodies soaking into one another for a long while until Flint rises to fumble for the washbasin in the dark, motions less inebriated but charmingly more at ease than he had been. He cleans them both and stands next to the bed, shifting.

 

Silver slits his eyes open and gestures at the bed in irritation at having to ask.

 

“Fuck’s sake,” he mumbles, pulling Flint back into his arms and under the covers. He kisses him again, tasting him and letting their lips linger against each other as they begin to drift. 

 

“How much more can I show you that I want you here?” Silver huffed, curling around his quarry and untying his hair. Flint sighs quietly, Silver combing his fingers through it.

 

“I’ll need to be reminded, I think,” James murmurs into Silver’s chest. Silver’s pretty laugh rises quietly and he hopes they’ll have the time. He knows the captain hasn’t slept more than by sheer force of his own biology, and only slips under with him once James’ breathing becomes slow and even.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PWP ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

After sharing intimacy and a bed amid a city burning and chaos raging, they could scarcely be convinced that clothing or command held any appeal at all.Billy was getting so, so tired of walking in to bullshit “I was helping him with his leg” excuses as they tried to right themselves and gather hair recently pulled free of its queue. It got more halfhearted over days, Flint finally putting a hand over Silver’s mouth and yelling.

 

“Billy, for fuck’s sake, a moment’s peace, alright? Later,” Flint calls through the door, latching it with one hand and proceeding to carry a protesting, agitated Silver over to his desk. It’s the second time today and he can’t fathom having enough, a thought he has as his knees hit the ground before him. Flint mouths immediately at Silver’s cock and they’re both inhibiting each other’s efforts to get him free for a moment before Silver is engulfed in skilled, practiced heat. He’d never have guessed this to be among the redhead’s talents, but god, now that he knew. He’d have to ask about how he learned, some other time. For now, Flint swallowed him down expertly and he had to squirm to avoid finishing immediately.

 

Flint pulled off for a second, “Please,” he kissed the tip, “You can come, love.”

 

Silver cried out when Flint was on him fully again, urging his hands to the back of his head. It dawned on Silver what he wanted, a thing Silver had generally avoided with women because it was rough, bordering on violent. He dug his fingers into Flint’s scalp, eliciting a moan and giving himself to the feeling of his cock down his worshipful captain’s throat against his desk. Flint took it with remarkable grace, always chasing the horizon of things they could do for and to and with each other in the dark.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> barely a scene

Silver draws his fingertips across the bent of Flint’s neck as he works, cartographer’s skills at use to hopefully right their course. Silver draws back an inch when Flint jumps at the sensation, clearly lost in thought.

 

His green eyes, each a slightly different hue, find Silver’s and John cracks a smirk, finding his pupils already more blown than midday demands.

 

Their mouths crash and Flint drops his instruments carelessly, turning to engulf Silver. He knocks him off balance, pushing him back in steady arms towards the cot they’ve shared more nights than not recently. Flint tears his shirt free, expectant of more of whatever that feeling had been, the sparks along his skin where Silver’s fingers met his body.

 

They move without speaking, exchanging kisses and tasting each other, running hands along open flesh.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All bluster and overcoat.

Flint is raging, almost aimless this time. Conflict for conflict’s sake. All bluster and overcoat. He’s inches from Silver’s face and his eyes roll when Silver takes a firm hold of his face and kisses him quiet. Silver strokes his thumbs over Flint’s high cheekbones while feeling the heat of anger rising off of him. It melted into the vulnerable, quick heartbeat of a man ready to fight or fly. 

He backs Flint into the window seat, pushing him against the wall there and pinning him with another hard kiss, holding him in place. He’d been healing well and wore the boot today, giving him leverage enough to shove a thigh between Flint’s. Flint grinds into it instantly, Silver chasing the taste of a sigh as they both move to shed clothes.


End file.
